


let's learn this dance together

by xtreasure17



Category: Amar a Muerte (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Canon, Canon Compliant, F/F, First Love, Fluff, Pining, Romance, Slow Burn, a little humor, i just want more slow love, leon's not dead... yet, much gay, scene in depth, tags to follow with chapters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-24
Updated: 2019-04-02
Packaged: 2019-11-29 11:30:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18222554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xtreasure17/pseuds/xtreasure17
Summary: a collection of drabbles that dive deeper into the Juliantina scenes that were too short for my liking, here to give you more feels and squees because their love deserves such poeticsas well as Luceva angstily pining after each other because their love story is tragically gay





	1. pirouette

**Author's Note:**

  * For [xychedelics](https://archiveofourown.org/users/xychedelics/gifts).



> this collection is dedicated to my haux-mie who has fallen deep for this love. here, i begin with the first kiss.  
> allow me to drown you in the moment, be suspended.

her hands are warm in your clammy ones, and her grip, steadying. she is all that is holding you still as you tiptoe in a depth you are not sure you are quite ready for. her fingers curl and unfurl in your palms like flowers in the wind—a nervous habit, you might have assumed if you hadn’t known her as well as you do now after a mere few weeks, and she has nothing to be nervous about, treading lightly in the water of her own pool, in her own home, with you. it is more that she likes to be actively touching you, more than the accidental brushing of shoulders and casual linking of arms, like you’re the one grounding her when it is actually otherwise, you are sure. she has become the pivot of your happiness.

you can forget about the water that is otherwise cold, even in the middle of summer as it is, with the pool being indoors. such a privilege you’ve never even dreamt of being a part of. the indoor pool, the fake flowers floating, someone else’s swimsuit barely covering your body— the whole scenario’s absurd, as if in a dream. but now she’s holding your hands, keeping you close, keeping you afloat amidst this water that is trying to drag you down in your own lack of suspension, and she says, ‘mírame.’ how can you not?

now she’s twirling you around like you had spun her in the park, unsteady and steadying, and your hands come to rest on each other’s waists, flowing closer. this is a dance you’re not well-versed in so your body is heavy but she’s smiling at you, always already halfway to her lighthearted laugh, and your heart is floating. 

she looks at you. the water is cold; it makes you blossom in ways you don’t want to think of but you notice her noticing and don’t know what to make of that either. she looks at you and your body from head to toe flushes with warmth. her fingers curl and unfurl on your hipbones. she’s got nothing to be nervous about, you had thought. foreheads pressed together, this close distance between you and her makes you long to be closer. she’s looking at your lips. you let your gaze unwillingness flicker away from the depths of her eyes to latch onto hers. her lips, you find out soon enough, are softer than the gentle caress of water. this kiss, a pirouette you can together learn to dance.


	2. save your last dance for me [part 1]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eva hates getting dressed up for events she’d rather not be attending. This was one such affair: her father’s wedding to the woman she loves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> to aam, i came for the juliantina, stayed for my top bun, lucia. i can't help but write this luceva. thank you as usual, my main haux, xy, for always encouraging me and being so excited and extra about my writing. 
> 
> enjoy this rollercoaster!  
> here's some aesthetics of this fic to help you with your feels:  
> http://xtreasure.tumblr.com/tagged/save-your-last-dance-for-me
> 
> (an apology to those who are here for juliantina only)

Eva knew from the moment her papá’s new secretary stepped foot into his office and she couldn’t—neither could her papá—take her eyes off this Lucia. She was freshly twenty-one, about to leave for her final year of college in the US, she had just wasted her last summer shadowing in her father in their company, and she was so ready to find her escape from the burden of the Carvajal family name one last time. Or rather, she had been. One look at Lucia, and Eva found herself more than one reason to stay.

Back then, she had refused to stay. Perhaps it was what she thought she needed at that time. But now, two years later, she’s twenty-three, finally returning to Mexico for ever, and she’s a little too late.

Eva hates getting dressed up for events she’d rather not be attending. This was one such affair: her father’s wedding to the woman she loves.

Eva sits alone in front of the vanity mirror in her dressing room. She’s already dressed in the pink cloud-like bridesmaid dress—she absolutely detests everything about it but her youngest sister and Daddy’s dearest, Valentina, insisted and won her over as usual when she argued everything should be perfect on what is their papá’s happiest day on Earth. All Eva needs now is to find her concealer to pile on top of the dark dark circles under her eyes. The past few days have been more a lucid dream than a nightmare. In fact, her nights have been tumultuous and her days seemingly passing in a distance since her graduation day. Oh what a day, one that was supposed to be happy and celebratory. And celebratory it was, for everyone but her, when her papá reintroduced Lucia to his family as his love and Lucia, her love, steeled her eyes that were only a moment ago apologetic against Eva’s imploring gaze that have refused to meet hers from then on.

Leon and Lucia’s wedding is another celebration in which Eva finds little of the joy expected in such events and more the hallowing sense of inexplicable loss. Inexplicable in that Eva knows she should not be feeling this way, this strongly, when, yes, her papá is in a mere three hours becoming more than a just father, once again also a husband, and the position of the matriarch will be fulfilled by someone other than her mother. Eva does not want to acknowledge, much less on this day, that her yearning is for someone who was never hers to begin with—Lucia.

Eva does not need to be hallowed out even more by the silent tears leaking out from her bare eyes. She wipes the back of her hand across her cheeks, grabs the concealer from under her red lipstick, squeezes an unnecessarily large glob onto the tip of her index finger, and jabs at the under-eye bags. She almost pokes her finger into her eyeball when someone knocks and opens the door and enters and Eva finds herself backed up against the vanity table, chair overturned, breath stuttered. Lucia stops to stand a good two feet away. Eva grips the edge of the table until her arms tremble and the rest of her body stills in an attempt to run to Lucia, run away from her, and stand her ground all at once. Her first coherent thought is that brides should not see their grooms before the wedding. The realization then came, that Lucia may be the bride but this is not their wedding and she is not the groom—her father is.

Lucia takes a step forward, extending both her hands, and says, “Eva.”

Eva falls against the desk, knees giving out upon hearing her love call her name as she always has—lightly, questioning, with a hesitation that otherwise does not exist in either of their demeanors that successfully conceal the defied attraction between them. Lucia says her name like an exhalation. 

Eva squares her shoulders, lifts her chin, grits her teeth but cannot help calling to her enamorada as if breathing her into her soul and being, “Lucia.”

Lucia smiled, almost coquettish, clearly pleased by Eva’s acceptance of her presence.

“Why are you here?” Eva continued. She frowned at herself when her brusque question caused Lucia’s smile to wane, but the bride recovered quickly. Lucia dropped her ignored hands onto her hips, twisting fluently into a model pose, lips pouting. “How do I look?”

Denying herself from rising to the tease, Eva kept her eyes from lingering on Lucia’s lips or straying down to her curves. She hardens her frown, repeating, “I asked, what are you doing here?”

“I needed to get away from the people flittering all around me,” Lucia drops her act and her arms with a tired shrug, admitting, “I thought I could find some peace with you.”

After a moment of consideration, Eva replies, “Okay.” She moves to pick up the fallen chair, takes her time brushing it off, keeps herself occupied. “Come sit with me.”

“No, I don’t want to crease my dress. You sit; you need to fix your makeup, pretty girl.”

Lucia comes up behind Eva. She guides her into the chair and watches through the mirror as Eva unenthusiastically resumes her preparations. Her fingers run through Eva’s loose locks, tug at an unruly wave. Eva tries to pat the offending hand away but Lucia catches her wrist, trails her fingers along her palm, slotting their hands together.

With her free hand, Lucia plays with the pink puffy shoulder strap of Eva’s eye-sore of a gown. “I never thought I’d see you in a dress like that.”

“I could say the same for you.”

“You’ve never dreamt of me in a wedding dress?”

Not in such a circumstance, Eva admits to no one but herself. She says with intention, “Didn’t think you were the marrying type.”

“I didn’t think so either,” Lucia trails off. She’s got a faraway look in her eyes. “But a certain Carvajal changed my mind.”

For the first time in a long while, Eva’s last name brings her hope. The same hope that is extinguished in the same breath as Lucia lets her hands slide off Eva’s shoulders, taking a step backward, smiling faintly.

“I think I look ridiculous in this!” Eva quickly tries to joke to keep Lucia present, “Change my mind.”

“You’re so pretty, princesa.” Lucia’s assertion brushed Eva’s cheeks a tender pink. Seeing the younger woman responding bashfully to her words, Lucia winks at Eva’s reflection, downplaying her sincerity, and swipes a thumb under her eyes. “You just need to fix your make-up and hair. We’re running out of time.”

“I’ll call the hairdresser back in.”

Lucia rolls her eyes, pushes Eva back down into the chair, and sarcastically mouths the words back at her, earning another slap on the hands. 

“Let me do it for you,” she says, already getting to work. She grabs the brush from the table, parts the layers of Eva’s hair, clips them into temporary twirls. The sureness in her movements is soothing for both women especially during this pre-wedding time of jitters.

“I worked at a beauty salon before… Pearls will look nice against your beautiful dark hair. What do you think about a half-up top knot? Stop fiddling! Trust me, I’m good with my fingers.”

Trust that Eva wished she knew for herself the truth of that last claim. They both stopped in shocked silence. Some throat clearing, eye averting, frantic avoiding each other’s blatant glances until the awkwardness dissipates and all that remains are bemused grins.

A few moments later, Lucia clasps the string of pearls closed. Stepping in between Eva in the chair and the vanity table, she claps her hands excitedly. “Now, let’s see. Thoughts?”

Eva lowers her eye shadow pallet from her face and looks ahead, expecting her reflection. But what she sees, instead, straight in Eva’s vantage point, are Lucia’s boobs. 

White lace. Cleavage. Pearls, round. Boobs.

That’s all Eva processes. Lucia’s leaning forward to tighten the bun, not noticing the turmoil she’s causing. Eva’s strong will is the only thing that convinces her eyes to avert upwards to safer—though not by much, because this close, Lucia’s face is stunningly distracting—territory and her back to straighten up. Her tongue still manages to slip up.

“Beautiful.”

When Lucia meets her gaze, Eva looks at her through her lashes. Not for the first time, Lucia notices the specks of amber and grey in Eva’s green eyes. She wants to lose herself in them, lost in their intricate depths, as though crossing the dark distance between two twinkling stars. This close, Eva can see Lucia’s cheeks flushing even through her painted-on blush. This closeness does not last. Lucia stands to her full height.

“Thank you.” She gives a curt nod, turns away. “But I’m marrying your father.”

Eva rises after her and grabs her by the arm before Lucia could reach the door.

“You can never replace our mother.”

Lucia’s eyes widen for a second, pained. It shocks both that such a thought would be posed as a legitimate concern, a flimsy excuse borne of inexplicable anger. 

“What kind of person do you take me for?”

“You’re a stranger!”

“And whose fault is that?”

Eva stops. They now stand almost toe to toe, chests heaving, clenching each other’s arms, chins still held high.

“I don’t want you to be my family,” Eva relinquishes her hold on the bride. Not in this manner, she doesn’t add.

Lucia isn’t surprised that this is what it all winds down to. She smooths down her ruffled dress, exhales heavily. “I’m not trying to be your anything anymore. You’ve made it clear to me since you returned from the US that I cannot be anything for you. I’m marrying your father, Eva, because I love him.”

Tears spring in Eva’s eyes and she looks away from Lucia who inches closer and, with a finger under Eva’s chin, guides her to not hide her emotions again.

“No quiero que me llamas mamá. Soy Lucia para ti, siempre.”

Lucia caresses Eva’s tear-stained cheek until Eva smiles shakily into her palm. 

“Lucia?” Eva whispers her name like a secret to be kept. “You look beautiful. Eres un ángel.”

“Whatever you say.”

Pressing a last goodbye in the warmth she has left, Lucia walks away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> all errors are mine! would appreciate if y'all pointed out if my spanish is wrong (it's been a few years lol).
> 
> come scream with me about my multitude of luceva headcanons on tumblr @xtreasure. 
> 
> i'll be back with part two, soon-ish.
> 
> also, plz comment below for which scenes you want me to write about next. this one was inspired by that scene in which lucia storms up to eva in the bathroom in the first episode.


End file.
